The Mechanic
by DazzledIn2008
Summary: Bella is stranded after her truck dies on a lonely road. Luckily, she meets someone who can fix it for her. Rated M for language and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: No, it's not the next chapter of "Beautiful." But my beta, LibbyLou862, said that after I finished chapter 4 of that story, that I could write up this one-shot as a reward, which I've wanted to write for awhile. So I did. Now, I'll be able to get chapter 5 done with a clear conscience. :)**

**This is my long-standing dirty mechanic fantasy, come to life with a man who is near and dear to all of our hearts.**

**Disclaimer: All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)**

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><p><strong>THE MECHANIC<strong>

I couldn't believe this was happening to me again.

I was on my way home from work, from the small bookstore that I managed, when my truck started to sputter and lurch. I immediately got that sick, panicky feeling in the pit of my stomach, petrified of being stranded on the side of the road, completely helpless. I had _just _gotten my truck out of the shop only two weeks earlier, for the same exact problem, and the guy who had worked on it had sworn to me that it was fixed this time. He was so confident. I knew nothing about engines, and I really knew no one in the city. I had no choice but to trust him. And it had cost me the last of my savings account, a gamble which I had apparently lost.

I wanted to be so independent when I moved away from home, not to need anyone. I wanted to prove to my dad that I could make it in the city without him. He warned that a small town girl like me could never survive in the big city, and that I would be sorry, that I would come crawling back to him.

And now, I would have to call him, admitting that he was right, grovelling for money.

It just made me sick.

I pulled off to the side of the road and turned on my hazard lights. It was almost six o'clock and already dark out. The weather was terrible - it was pouring down raining... thick, solid sheets of rain, where I couldn't see two feet in front of my face. I was only half-way home, and not in the safest part of town. There were rows and rows of abandoned buildings, the windows boarded up, and nothing on my side of the street except miles of overgrown fields.

I pulled out my cell phone, trying to organize my thoughts, to decide who to call since I didn't actually know anyone, when I saw the last bar on my phone battery disappear right before my eyes. Shit. I had forgotten to charge it last night. I was now completely and utterly screwed, and not in that good way that I seemed to be missing lately. I didn't have a lot of relationship experience, and the little that I did have was not good, part of the reason that I moved away from my hometown, a fresh start.

I laid my forehead against the cold steering wheel and let out a long, shaky breath. I was trying desperately not to cry, not to give in to my fears and frustrations and insecurities.

I'm not sure how long I sat like that, on the brink of tears, the cab of my truck steaming up with the engine off. The reoccurring problem with my truck, along with my current precarious state, seemed to be a metaphor for all the problems in my life, and if I couldn't figure my way out of a basic mechanical problem, there seemed to be no hope for the rest of me.

Just then, the rain let up a bit, just for a few seconds, but it was long enough for me to notice that there was a light on across the street. With the blinding rain, I couldn't read the sign, but I was hoping that lights meant people, and people meant a phone.

I had nothing left to lose.

I opened the door and ran as quickly as I could across the empty street, getting instantly soaked to the skin, and it was only when I was almost at the door that I noticed the sign for "Sam's Garage." My truck had crapped out directly in front of a _garage_. I had to smile. Maybe something was finally going to go my way.

I pushed on the door, but it was locked. I peered in through the glass, and although the lights were still on, I couldn't see anyone. I knocked.

I waited for what felt like an appropriate amount of time for the situation, but I was soaking wet and freezing cold, and more than a little scared. So, hearing nothing, I knocked again. Harder this time.

"We're closed!" I heard someone yell angrily from the back of the building. Not a friendly sounding voice, but it was all I had.

So I kept knocking. I figured, eventually, he would have to come to the door, even if it was to tell me to go away, but I wanted him to tell me to my face. I was a helpless woman, wet and cold. He would have to be a cold-hearted man not to let me in, at least to use the phone.

Finally, I heard the lock on the door turn, and it suddenly opened with a rush of warm, dry air and curse-filled insults, all directed at me.

"I _said _we're fucking closed," the man growled. "Are you fucking _deaf _or something?"

I opened my mouth to answer him, but, although I most assuredly wasn't deaf, I seemed to have suddenly lost the ability to speak. The guy, the one who answered the door, was the single most beautiful, most _dangerous _looking man I had ever seen, and I had an immediate and visceral reaction to him. My heart started to pound, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

He was tall and lithe and muscular, but in a lean sort of way, not bulky. His eyes were a bright, clear green with long, dark lashes, and his jaw was strong and covered with a day's growth of beard. He had a messy head of hair, a strange reddish brown color that I had never seen before, but it was stunning on him. He was wearing faded blue coveralls, but they were unzipped to the waist, hanging down at his sides. His upper body was covered in only a dirty, sweaty undershirt, displaying the multitude of tattoos decorating his arms and chest.

And his hands. Oh, God, his hands. They were dirty. Really, really dirty. They looked rough, like they would feel like sandpaper if he touched me.

He was watching me as I watched him, gradually seeming more amused than angry. He was leering at me, blatantly running his eyes over my body, the corner of his mouth turning up in a lascivious grin. His eyes were glued to my chest, and I'm sure he could see right through my thin, wet shirt.

"C-can I come in?" I whispered. My teeth were chattering, and I desperately needed something to warm me up.

He leaned against the door frame, blocking my entrance, and folded his arms across his chest.

"I told you," he said softly, his voice somehow smooth and rough at the same time. "We're closed." He didn't move to leave or close the door, obviously teasing me, enjoying my discomfort.

I looked down at my feet, at the rain water starting to pool beneath me as it dripped off my hair and my clothes.

"My truck," I gestured behind me. "It broke down." I started to wring my hands together in desperation. "It's right across the street. I was hoping you could..." He was so intimidating, his gaze so intense... I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Hoping I could _what_, exactly..."

Oh God. I didn't even know what I was asking anymore. I didn't even know his name, and I was already imagining his dirty hands on me, how they would feel on my skin. I had to look away from him or I would combust, right there, on the spot. I stared at the floor and took a deep breath.

"_Please_," I whispered, begging him for something, anything. I pulled out the only trick I had, looking up at him through my lashes, hoping that it conveyed the desperation that I felt.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, running his hand through his hair. He pulled the door open, just enough to let me in, which I took as tacit agreement on his part, but just as I stepped across the threshold, he grabbed the door, blocking my way with his arm. I was standing so close to him, I could feel the heat pouring off of his body, and, God help me, I could _smell _him.

He leaned towards me, slowly, until his lips were at my ear.

"And if I..." he breathed in deeply, his nose buried in my hair, "... _fix _your truck for you," he chuckled, his hot breath on my neck, "what will you do for me?"

Was he asking what I thought he was asking? Oh my God. What the hell was I going to do? I had just met him, if I could even call it that, not even five minutes ago, and I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted anyone in my entire life. I knew then that I had lost all control, that I would do anything he wanted. This was not me, not at all. I was basically a shy person, not forward at all, and always reluctant to give in to my deepest desires.

I swallowed hard and bit my lip, a nervous habit from my childhood.

"Um," I started, coughing to clear my throat and cover my nerves, "I c-can pay you."

He looked at me for a moment, then slowly smiled, like he had won. Then his expression changed, and he was suddenly all business.

"Will it start?" he asked gruffly, nodding towards my truck across the street. I nodded quickly. "Drive it in the first bay."

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><p>"So," I said, making a feeble attempt at small talk. He had been working on my truck for a while in complete silence, and it was making me nervous. "How long have you worked here?"<p>

The hood of my truck was up, and he was leaning over it, his back to me. It was warm inside the garage, much warmer than it was outside, and he was half-undressed. The faded coveralls that he was wearing were pulling tightly across his ass, and his undershirt was dirty and sticky with sweat and grease. As he reached and pulled at the engine of my truck, I was completely mesmerized by the lean, taut muscles of his back. He had another tattoo on the back of his shoulder, hiding under his shirt, and I could just see the edge of it peeking out. Something red and black and angry looking. Just like him.

I squeezed my legs together, trying to alleviate the growing ache.

"Uh," he started to answer, but he was engrossed in what he was doing and not concentrating on conversation. Finally, he leaned up a bit, looked at me over his shoulder, and smirked. "A couple of weeks. Just got here."

Only a couple of weeks, and he was here alone, at night?

"Oh." I know I should have said more, but I realized then that I didn't really want to _talk _to him. I just wanted to touch him, but I knew that was impossible. "Where were you before that?"

He stopped what he was doing again, but this time, he turned around to face me, leaning against the side of the truck. He grabbed the rag that was tucked into his back pocket and slowly wiped the grease and dirt from his hands. It didn't help much, though - it seemed to be permanently ingrained in his skin. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at me thoughtfully.

"I was at Dixon," he said with a secret smile.

"Dixon?" I asked. I had never heard of that company, and I wondered if it was another garage in town.

"Dixon Correctional. I was a ... guest of the state, so to speak."

Correctional? He was in _jail_? Holy shit. He really _was _dangerous. I was in too deep, obviously had no idea who I was dealing with, and I was alone with him. I swallowed hard and tried to act casual, like I was unaffected by this news.

"You were in jail?" I squeaked. I had to cough to clear my throat.

"Mmm hmm," he replied coolly, offering no additional information, just a steady, piercing gaze. He was waiting for me to react.

"W-why?" I sputtered, then quickly recovered, trying desperately to appear nonchalant. "I mean, what did you do?"

"Grand theft auto," he said with a sneer, like he was waiting for me to scream and run from the building, from him. "_This_time."

_This time_, he said. So it wasn't his first time in jail. Oh God. I refused to give him the reaction he expected, but I couldn't think of anything to say in response, so I just blinked and stared.

He pushed himself off of the side of the truck and walked over to me, until he was standing right in front of me. His face was only inches from mine and his smell, that combination of sweat and man and oil, completely overwhelmed my senses.

"Are you scared?" he asked softly, his voice deep and smooth.

I was shaking, my heart beating out of my chest, but I wasn't scared of him. I wanted him, but I couldn't tell _him _that.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head slowly back and forth, trying to convince myself as much as I was trying to convince him.

"Well," he replied, his eyes locked on mine. "You should be."

A moment passed between us, and then he lifted one hand and took a lock of my hair between his fingers, fingering it gently. He brought it to his face, his eyes closing as he inhaled. He made a noise, deep in his throat, and looked back at me.

"You are fucking stunning, do you know that?" he asked, his eyes wide, his jaw clenched. I shook my head at him, not knowing what to say, how I should answer, if an answer was even required. But then he took a step back and turned, returning to his position under the hood of my truck.

He worked in silence again for awhile, and I kept my mouth shut this time. I wanted to talk to him some more, but I was afraid of what else I would learn.

He walked around to the cab of the truck, sitting in the driver's seat, and he turned the key. The engine turned over easily, and he cocked his head, listening carefully to his work. It ran smoothly and evenly. No sputtering, no lurching.

After a few minutes, he turned his head to me, meeting my eyes in a long, heated gaze, and a slow grin spread across his face. I walked over to the side of the truck, outside the open driver's door, and waited to thank him.

He turned off the engine without breaking eye contact with me and climbed out of the truck, gently closing the door. He took a few steps toward me, making me a little nervous, so I started to step back, moving away from him, until he was again standing directly in front of me. I tried to back up more, but I was pressed against the side of the truck. I had nowhere to go.

His eyes ran slowly down my body, with that same libidinous grin that he wore at the door, and he leaned in even closer, almost, but not quite touching me. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"So fucking sweet," he whispered.

Each time he said something like that, something about me, it both scared and thrilled me, and made me even more confused than I had been. I knew he was trouble, but I felt powerless to remove myself from the situation. I decided to move the business of my visit along.

"So," I mumbled nervously. "How much do I owe you?"

He smiled even broader at my question and placed his hands on the truck, on either side of me, pinning me in place.

"What have you got?" he asked with a chuckle. I knew this wasn't the way it worked, that he was toying with me, but I had no choice but to play along. And the proximity of his body to mine, it was clouding my head, and I couldn't think straight.

"Um... well... I have about forty dollars in cash," I began, but he remained silent, waiting for me to continue. "And I have a credit card, but it only has a little left on it." I looked down then, ashamed at my inability to pay him properly, hoping he would be willing to work out some sort of payment plan.

He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face so that I was looking at him again. The smile was gone.

"That's not what I want," he growled, a sound that went straight through my body and settled between my legs.

"Then," I whispered nervously, "what do you want?"

He laughed, his soft, warm breath pouring all over me. He lifted a hand to my face and stroked my cheek softly with his thumb, his hand falling gently down my neck. When he reached the top of my blouse, he didn't stop as I assumed that he would. Instead, he continued down my body, his thumb smearing a greasy line down the front of my blouse. He stopped when he reached my breast, but only enough to circle around my hard nipple. Slowly. Again and again. The feeling was maddening. He was awakening something in me that I didn't even know existed.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear.

"I want to fuck you," he said, his thumb continuing its slow assault on my breast. "Right here." He moved his hand down my body, slowly stroking my stomach. "Against your truck." His hand settled between my legs, stroking slowly up and down over the fabric of my skirt, then pressing his middle finger hard against me, until I moaned. But it wasn't enough, I wanted more, I _needed _more, and I knew that I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself... I opened my legs for him, asking him not to stop.

"Is that a yes?" he growled, his hand never stopping. My knees felt like they were going to buckle at any minute, and my heart was beating so fast, so loud, I was sure that he could hear it.

I couldn't answer. He had rendered me unable to speak yet again... with his looks, his presence, his heat, his scent. I threw my head back, eyes closed, and moaned again, rather loudly.

"Open your eyes," he ordered roughly. "Look at me."

It took every bit of strength I had, but I did as he asked and brought my face back to his, my eyes matching his.

"I asked you a question," he said. "Is that a yes? You have to tell me, you have to say it." His hand never stopped moving between my legs. Rubbing. Pressing. It was the most delicious agony I had ever felt in my entire life. I still couldn't speak. All I could do was moan and gasp as he touched me, waiting for my permission, waiting for me to tell him it was okay to take it further. I had to wonder why he needed that so much, why he needed to hear me say it, and it set something off in the back of my head, something I couldn't put my finger on.

But I knew I didn't want to stop. I wanted him to take me. So I gave him what he needed.

"Yes," I whispered. I could barely breathe, yet alone speak.

His hand stopped moving, and he cocked his head, as if he didn't quite believe what he had heard, so I said it again, a little louder, a little more sure of myself. He wanted me. This Greek God, this beautiful, dangerous man, wanted _me_. I didn't care if it was for one night. I knew if I didn't do it, I would regret it forever.

"Yes," I said. "Yes... don't stop... _please_."

"Thank fucking Christ," he said, almost angrily, his hands moving up to my neck, behind my head, plunging his fingers into my hair. "It's been so goddamned long..." he muttered, so softly I could barely hear him.

Then, he pulled me to him, hard, crashing his lips on mine, his mouth open, his tongue instantly inside my mouth. He held my head tightly to his, and I couldn't move if I wanted to. My knees started to buckle again, and I was gasping for breath. He was relentless. He would take a quick breath and pull me back to him again. Each kiss was more passionate than the one before.

He started to press his body against mine as he kissed me, and I could feel his hard length between my legs, rubbing against me, his hips grinding against my own. He was driving me insane.

After several minutes had gone by, he suddenly pulled back and looked at me, panting and trying to catch his breath. His eyes left mine and moved down to my lips, my neck, my heaving chest. His hands followed until they were on the front of my blouse.

Suddenly, he grabbed the two sides of my shirt and ripped it open, most of the buttons popping easily off and hitting the ground with a soft plink. I was shocked at his violent act, and I yelled out in surprise, but I was incredibly turned on at his desire, the level of his need for me. No one had ever wanted me so much before that they felt the need to rip the clothes from my body.

"Fucking stunning," he said again, his hands moving immediately to my breasts, palming and squeezing, running his thumbs over my nipples. He leaned down and kissed me again, hard, while roughly pulling down the cups of my bra, exposing my breasts. He pulled back again, looked down at his handiwork, and muttered a soft "fuck." He took my nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently at first, tugging on them, then when he kissed me again, he got rougher, squeezing harder and harder, until finally, I could take no more, and I cried out.

He stopped immediately and looked at me, a worried expression on his face, but he was panting, breathing hard, and still grinding his hips against me.

I brought my hands to his head, my fingers buried in his soft, sweaty hair.

"Me too," I whispered.

He looked at me curiously, not understanding what I was trying to tell him.

"It's been a long time for me too," I said and pulled him to me, my mouth on his, letting him know that I wanted him too. I thrust my chest forward, back into his hands, begging him to continue. I knew it was wrong, that I should stop, walk out, and go home, but I couldn't. I had completely turned over control to him.

He moved from my mouth to my jaw, then to my neck, and I tilted my head to the side in encouragement. His mouth felt so good on my skin, his tongue, his teeth. Then, he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, and I lost it. My hands were still in his hair, and I grabbed two handfuls and pulled, hard, as I cried out at the sensation.

"Oh my God," I moaned. "Please..." I begged, but I wasn't even sure what I was begging for. Just more. I never wanted this to end.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, lifting himself away from my chest just for a moment. "You have no idea what that does to me when you say that." And then, to stress the point, he shoved his crotch between my legs again, moaning as he took my other nipple in his mouth.

As he kissed and bit on my breast, a bit gentler this time, his hands moved down my sides until they reached the bottom of my skirt, and he grabbed a handful of fabric in each hand and pulled until my skirt was at my waist. The air was warm in the garage, but the sudden exposure made me gasp, and I tried to remember what panties I put on that morning, if they were pretty enough, sexy enough.

He didn't seem to care, however, and he quickly slid his hand inside, under the fabric, until he was touching my most private part. He stroked me a couple of times, slowly up and down, and then let his middle finger explore a little, feeling my arousal.

"Oh fuck," he moaned. "You're so fucking wet... so warm..."

He started moving his fingers between my legs like he knew what he was doing, like he had a goal, and when he touched my clit for the first time, my entire body jerked, like an electric shock.

"Yes!" I screamed, thrusting my hips toward him. "Oh don't stop, please don't stop..."

He growled, deep in his chest, and I could only assume it was because I had said "please" again. It seemed to do something to him that I didn't really understand. I wasn't saying it to manipulate him, it was just a natural reaction to what he was doing to me.

"You like that?" he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up again. "Hmm?"

"Y-yes," I whispered. "Oh God, yes." I was so close now.

"Oh yeah," he said. "Come for me, pretty girl. Let me hear you." He slid a finger inside me and used his thumb on my clit, rubbing in slow circles. I was moaning non-stop now, and I felt that burning, tingling feeling in my stomach, the heat quickly spreading and blooming out through my body, until I exploded, my eyes rolling back in my head.

I screamed and shuddered as my orgasm coursed through my body, but he didn't stop. His fingers kept moving between my legs until I thought I couldn't take it anymore. I had never come so hard in my entire life.

Then, his fingers were gone, and I heard, rather than felt, the fabric of my panties tearing into pieces. Oh Jesus, he was ripping clothes off of me again. The look on his face, his expression, it was so hungry and desperate and vicious. I was his, and he was going to take what was his, no matter what, and that incensed me.

I felt his hand on my thigh, behind my knee, and he pulled my leg up, wrapping it around his hip, opening me up to him. He was fumbling with the zipper on his coveralls, and he quickly lowered it and grabbed his cock.

"Now, baby, it's _my _turn," he said roughly, and then with one quick motion, he was inside me. "Oh fuck, _yes_," he groaned as his hips started a pounding, unforgiving rhythm. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hung on tightly. It was all I could do.

He had one hand still under my thigh, gripping tightly, and the other pressed into my hip. I was sure that I would have bruises in the morning. He was pulling me towards him with each hard stroke, and he was muttering dirty words under his breath.

"Goddamn it, woman," he growled. "You are so fucking tight... so fucking warm... so wet."

He had just made me come so hard that I saw stars, only minutes ago, but I could feel it building again, already. I couldn't believe it, couldn't understand it, this level of desire, of need.

"Oh God," I moaned as the feeling started to course through my body. He could tell that I was about to come, and it seemed to inflame him. He started thrusting harder and faster, drilling my body into the hard metal of my truck. I was clawing at his back, pulling at his undershirt, trying to get closer to him, to get him deeper inside me. He pulled at my leg, the one that was wrapped around him, lifting it higher, and shoving himself even deeper than he was before.

"Fuck, yeah," he said. "Come for me again, beautiful." He brought his mouth to my neck again, and bit down. Not hard, but hard enough, and the combination of sensations was so overwhelming that it pushed me over the edge.

I came again, this orgasm even more intense and prolonged than the last. He didn't stop, didn't slow down at all, but I could tell he was close because his thrusts became erratic, and a low rumble started from deep in his chest, rising quickly in volume.

"I'm gonna come, baby," he said with a final thrust, his hips pressed hard against mine, finally stilling, until I felt him pulsing inside me. "Fuck!" he yelled, his face buried in my neck.

We stood there, for minutes afterward, not moving, my arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, his hands on my hip and thigh. He was still inside me, and I realized, when we had both caught our breath, and he started to pull out of me, that I didn't want him to. I didn't want to be... not touching him.

He stepped back, lowering my leg and gently stroking my cheek with his rough fingers, the same fingers that had just been inside me. And he kissed me, but it wasn't like before. This was soft, gentle. Almost tender. His lips were soft and warm, and I brought my hands to his face, stroking the rough stubble on his jaw.

He pulled back and grinned at me, a sweet, boyish smile, and then he started to get dressed.

So I did the same.

I looked down at my blouse, which was beyond repair, and I started to see the marks all over my skin. Dark, greasy smears, from his hands on me. Oh God. That image would be with me for a while. I almost couldn't wait to get home so that I could strip down and look in the mirror, see the evidence of what we had done, make it real.

I had one button left on the front of my shirt, so I quickly fastened it to cover myself up. I righted my bra, and pushed my skirt back down. My panties. Where were my panties? I started to look around the room, and I saw them on the floor a few feet away, completely shredded. I moved to pick them up, but before I could even take a step, he was bending down to grab them. He held them in his hand and looked at me and winked, then he put them in his pocket and turned away.

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><p>Finally, there was nothing left to do. It was time for me to leave. I wanted to say something to him, but I really didn't know what there was to say. I wanted to see him again, but I didn't dare ask. He didn't seem like a relationship kind of guy, and what we just did was probably only a one-time thing.<p>

So I climbed into my truck and closed the door.

He walked over to the window, and I rolled it down, waiting for him to say something, anything. He leaned on the window and smiled at me. Then, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to him, pressing his mouth against mine, kissing me hard, like he did the first time.

But it was short. Obviously, a goodbye kiss.

He pulled away and reached behind him to the switch on the wall. He pulled on it, and the bay door started to rise, slowly and noisily. He kept his eyes on mine the entire time.

When the door was completely open, there was nothing left for me to do or say, so I put the truck in reverse and turned to back out.

I had a sudden thought, and I turned back to him. He was still watching me, so I leaned out the window to ask him one last question.

"Hey," I said with a nervous smile. "I don't even know your name."

He grinned back at me and quickly replied, no hesitation.

"It's Edward."

Edward. What a beautiful name for a beautiful man. For some reason, I started to blush furiously, the heat rapidly crawling up my neck.

"Hi, Edward. I'm Bella."

He chuckled again.

"Okay, Bella. Come back anytime, sweet girl."

There was nothing left to say, so I turned and drove away.

Edward had made me smile. He made me hopeful. Hopeful for what, I wasn't sure, but it made it just a little bit easier to back out of the garage, into the night, alone... to leave him. My truck was old and unreliable, so there was a distinct possibility that I would need a mechanic in the near future.

And luckily for me, I now knew an unbelievable one.

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, that's it. Hope you liked it. I sure had a hell of a good time writing it and imagining a variety of scenarios. What's better than a dirty, nasty Edward? UGH! Btw, this is just a one-shot. There will be no further chapters. I really, and I mean REALLY, need to concentrate on my multi-chaptered fic, "Beautiful" (insert shameless plug here, and no, you pervs, not a buttplug). Hoping to get chapter 5 out to y'all sooner rather than later.**

**Oh one more thing. You may have noticed that they didn't use a condom. I know that, but it just didn't fit into the story to have him whip one out and be responsible. Instead, just suspend belief for a minute and imagine that she's on the pill and they are both disease-free.**

**Thanks, as always, to my beta, and best friend, LibbyLou862. She says the word "clit" on the phone to me, with corrections, like it's just any other word, and I love her dearly for that. :)**

**Um, review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know I said that "The Mechanic" was just a one-shot, but I had to give him his chance, to tell his story. And honestly, who doesn't want more dirty, badass convict Edward sex? So I guess this is **_**part deux**_** of my long-standing dirty mechanic fantasy, come to life with a man who is near and dear to all of our hearts.**

**It's been a while. You may want to go back and read Chapter 1 first, to put you in the right mindset. :)**

**After this, I'll get back to the next chapter of "Beautiful."**

**Disclaimer: All things "Twilight" belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)**

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><p><strong>The Mechanic, chapter 2<strong>

I'd been slowly nursing a glass of bourbon for the last hour. I _needed _to fucking get wasted, but I didn't have the money to buy enough of the good stuff to get me there, and I refused to drink shit booze.

Jake's Bar was a hole in the wall, not far from the garage, and I'd been coming here, almost every night since that night. That fucking rainy night that I couldn't get out of my mind. Her sweet smell. Her soft skin. Her wet heat.

_Bella_, she said her name was.

Fuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing that vision to leave me for a few blessed minutes, and threw back the rest of the bourbon in my glass. Fuck, yeah. The burn going down my throat, warming my chest.

I took a long pull on my cigarette and blew the smoke out of the corner of my mouth. Smoking was the only vice allowed in lockup, and now, I couldn't stop. Disgusting fucking habit.

Everyone left me alone here, which is exactly how I wanted it. Sitting at the very end of the bar, in the dark, hovering over my now-empty glass, and commiserating with myself over my fucked up life.

The jukebox was filled with 90's alternative rock, which was what Jake liked, and he didn't give a fuck what anyone else wanted to listen to. It worked for me, and the pounding music mixed nicely with the slight buzz I had going on. Jake spied my empty glass from across the bar and raised his eyebrows to me, silently asking me if I wanted another. If I said yes, I couldn't eat tonight. It was that simple. So I shook my head, telling him no. Not now, at least. He understood. He'd done time too.

So I just stared at the bottom of my empty glass, and I couldn't help remembering her. I'd fucking jacked off every night since she came into the garage in those wet clothes, thinking about her tits poking through her shirt, begging for my warm mouth. Christ, the look on her face when I ripped that shirt off. I just found another button that morning, and I put it in my pocket. I'd been rolling it around in my fingers all day. It was like some sort of talisman, a physical connection to her or something, letting me know it was real.

Jesus. I really had to fucking stop this. I was never going to see her again. I should have probably just hooked up with that Leah chick that Jake's been pushing on me. He said that she was hot and easy, and that was just what I needed to get my mind straight … a quick, hot fuck.

And another fucking bourbon. Shit.

Just then, the door opened, slowly, almost timidly, if that was even possible, and a tiny figure slipped inside. It was dark at the door, and there were people standing around, so I couldn't see who it was at first.

But then I saw her.

It was _her_.

Bella.

In this bar. The same bar as me. The same fucking _room _as me. I took a deep breath and held it, watching her in the dark as she pushed through the crowd, scared to touch anyone. The people in here weren't exactly her crowd, and I felt immediately protective of her. She finally made it to the bar and sat hesitantly on a stool, trying to get Jake's attention.

Unfortunately, that didn't take long. Jake loved pretty young things, and he was on her like stink on shit. That fucking dog. If he put his paws on her, I'd tear him apart. I glared at him in the dark, willing her to look around and see me, and if I were lucky, to come to me.

She spoke to Jake, softly. I could see her lips moving, but I couldn't hear a word she said. I remembered that voice, how she sounded when she came, when she gave me permission to fuck her. When she said _please_.

Fuck, my dick was getting hard. My jeans were loose, thank God, so I did a quick adjustment and hoped no one noticed.

When Jake walked away to get her drink, she collapsed on the barstool and shuddered, releasing a long breath. She wiped her hand across her cheek, under her eyes, and it was then that I noticed she was crying.

And that fucking killed me. I had to know what happened. I wanted to fix it. And I wanted to beat the shit out of whatever motherfucker hurt her.

Jake brought her order, three shot glasses of some clear liquid, and I would never have seen that coming. Some fruity drink with an umbrella, something frozen, or maybe one of those pink wines, but not shots. She was too fragile. She wouldn't be able to handle that much alcohol. What the fuck was Jake thinking? If he thought he could get her drunk and take advantage of her, he had some pain coming his way.

She lifted the first glass to her lips and took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then she shot it back. Her face screwed up as the liquor burned down her throat, and she gave a little shake, like she couldn't control it. It was the cutest fucking thing I had ever seen. She waited a few minutes, and then she downed the second one. Then, she just stared off into space, letting the booze do its job.

Her face relaxed, and she had finally stopped crying. She seemed calmer, but I was worried about her, her alcohol tolerance level. And had she _driven _here? In that fucking _truck_? No _way _she could drive home, especially if she did that third shot.

So I just watched. And waited. Hoping for a moment, an opening. Wondering if I should talk to her or just leave her the hell alone. I couldn't be anything good for her, and she was better off without me.

The crowd moved a little, and I could finally see her better. She looked amazing, fucking hot. I personally and intimately knew that there was a tiger buried underneath that timid exterior, and I hoped that I was the only motherfucker in this place that did. She was wearing a shirt and skirt thing, kind of a "hot librarian" look. Tight, slim, black skirt, stopping just above her knees. White, button-down shirt, way too fucking tight for the assholes in here. They were all eyeing her like a piece of meat, drooling as they circled around her, waiting for their opportunity to strike. And black high-heeled shoes that made her legs look a mile long. Fuck, I wanted those legs wrapped around me, shoes still on, while I fucked her until she screamed. And this time, I wanted to hear her scream my _name_when she came.

Jesus, _this _time.

I was glued to my fucking seat, torn, trying to decide what to do. To talk to her, or leave her alone. But then she started to wobble a little, and I could tell that the alcohol was hitting her, and my decision was made for me. I jumped out of my seat and slipped up behind her, gently holding her upper arms to keep her from falling over. I buried my face in her hair because it was right there, smelling her sweet scent, wanting nothing more than to lick her neck, push up that skirt, and fuck her right here, over the bar.

Instead, I pushed the animal down and rubbed her arms softly, whispering in her ear.

"Bella," I said.

She must have been surprised to hear her name, and she turned in her seat, too quickly, and immediately wobbled again, the quick motion making her dizzy. She really was a fragile, delicate little creature. I kept my hands on her arms, keeping her upright, and once she had turned, she was right in front of me, only inches from my mouth.

She looked at me for several seconds, looking first at my hands on her arms, then at my chest, which was practically eye level for her, then up to my neck, and my face. She looked stunned for a second, then recognition flashed in her eyes.

"E-Edward?" she stuttered.

I grinned back at her. It thrilled me that she remembered my name, that she remembered _me_. This girl had something, a piece of me. She made me smile. Yeah, she made me wanna fuck her, but there was something else there too.

"Yeah," I said, my fingers stroking her arms slowly as we spoke. "What are you doing here, Bella?"

I didn't want her to think that I wanted her to leave. I just needed to know how she ended up here, and what had upset her.

"I," she started, then cleared her throat a little. Her eyes were wide and deep and beautifully brown. She was biting on that bottom lip again, and it made my dick twitch. God_damn_, I wanted this woman. "I was driving home from work, and..."

She sighed heavily. I knew that she had to drive past the garage on her way home, so it only made sense that she would pass the bar. It never really occurred to me before, but now that I knew it, I would be watching for her truck every night. That was probably not a good thing.

"And?" I prodded gently.

"And, I got a phone call." She sighed again, her expression growing darker. "From my dad. Back home." She looked down at the ground, biting that lip again. Fuck, I wanted to bite it for her.

"Bad news?" I asked.

"No," she replied hesitantly. "Just Dad, being... Dad."

"He pissed you off," I stated. "He made you cry."

"I'm... I'm fine," she said. "It's nothing. It happens all the time. I'm used to it."

"So, you came here?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," she said. "I've seen the sign before, but I've never come in. But, I hung up on my dad, and then the bar was right in front of me, and I really needed a drink. End of story."

She straightened up a little, trying to show me that she was tough, independent. I knew better.

"Okay," I said, grinning at her, hoping I could get a small smile back. "But you're knocking those shots back pretty quickly. Did you eat tonight? You're too tiny to drink that much."

I stepped to her side, leaning one arm on the bar, the other protectively around her, still rubbing on her arm.

She started to answer me, and Jake walked over, showing off his mouth full of sharp, white teeth, his ridiculously tight white t-shirt.

"Ready for another round, little lady?" He scooped up the two empty shot glasses and produced two clean ones. He started to pour into the first empty glass, but I put my hand over the glass, stopping him.

"Back off, Jake," I growled at him. "She's still got one more, and that's one too many."

Bella just glared at me, her mouth dropped open, surprised that I would speak for her, and all I could think of was sticking something in there for her to suck. She twisted away from me, turning back to smile at Jake, and downed the third shot quickly. Fuck.

She turned back and looked at me smugly, like it was an argument she had won, like she had just proved to me that she was right about something. No fucking way she was driving now.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" She growled at me, slurring slightly. "If I want another drink, I'm gonna have another drink!" She was trying so hard to be tough, but it just didn't fly with her. All I wanted to do was touch her. And kiss her. And lick her. And fuck her. Damn, I _definitely _wanted to fuck her again.

"Bella," I said gently, working out a quick plan in my head. "Let me buy you a drink, okay? I'll get Jake to make it up special. It's my own recipe." I only had twenty bucks to my name, and between the bourbon and these drinks, I would be broke. So much for dinner. So I winked at her, letting her think she was getting her way, and she nodded confidently.

I leaned over the bar and called Jake over. I talked softly so that only he could hear.

"Mix up a drink for me. Some Sprite, some fruit juice, some cherries, and pineapple. And a fucking umbrella or something. Make it look good. But _no _fucking booze, got it?"

Jake tightened his jaw, realizing that I was claiming her, and he knew me well enough to know to stay away. Yeah, he was physically bigger than me, but I was a scrappy son of a bitch, and I fought dirty, which he knew first-hand. He nodded to me and started mixing up a pretty virgin drink for Bella. When he was done, he handed it to me, and it was ridiculous looking, layers of color, several pieces of fruit. No umbrellas, but a colored swizzle stick speared through a cherry on top. I handed it to her, but didn't let go until I said my piece.

"Here you go, beautiful. Careful with this, now. Sip it slowly. It's like a Long Island Iced Tea. Tastes real good. Goes down easy. Then it sneaks up and kicks your ass." I winked at her again, and she finally gave me back a small smile and that delicious fresh, pink blush. As she took the drink out of my hand, I swiped my thumb across her skin a couple of times, just to feel that connection to her again.

She lifted the drink to her lips, keeping her eyes locked on mine, and took a tiny, tentative sip. Then she smiled at me. A real smile.

"Good?" I asked.

"Mmm hmm," she replied, taking a second, larger sip. That sound, that small moan of pleasure for the drink in her hand, went straight to my cock, remembering how she moaned for me when I had my fingers between her legs.

"Remember. Drink it slowly," I warned with the most serious expression I could muster. Hopefully, I could get a couple of these down her and dilute what she had already consumed. Some food wouldn't hurt, either, if I could figure out a way to manage it.

She nodded and chuckled softly, looking down at her feet, then back up at me through her long eyelashes. Jesus, that killed me when she did that. Really fucking slayed me.

"So, how's your truck? Running okay?" I had to talk to her, get her to talk to me, see how drunk she was. And truthfully, I just wanted to hear her voice, see her lips move.

She took another big gulp and nodded enthusiastically. She ran her tongue slowly across her lips, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from that little bit of pink and wet. I was so fucking hard by now, she had to have noticed.

"It's great, running great, no problems." Another sip. The drink was halfway gone. "So what's this called? It's _really _good. And thanks again... " she said and then paused, blushing furiously all of a sudden, the warm red creeping up her neck and covering her cheeks. "For the t-truck, I mean," she offered quickly, stumbling over her words. I fucking hoped it was because she was remembering, too.

She was kind of all over the map, but I was loving every second of it.

"No name, really," I said, talking about the drink. "It's just something I came up with." She was down to ice and fruit only now. "Want another?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't," she hedged, sucking on a tiny piece of ice. Fuck me.

I gestured to Jake and held up two fingers. One for each of us. I took the empty out of her hands as I handed her a fresh one. She plucked the swizzle stick out first and slid the cherry into her mouth, grabbing it with her teeth. I almost came, right then and there. What I wanted to do with that fucking mouth, that pink tongue.

I grabbed the frilly plastic end of the swizzle stick in my glass and held it up, looking at the bright red cherry speared across the end. I twirled it in my hand, noticing that Bella was watching it intently, mesmerized. The music was pounding, urging me on, forcing my body into a hypnotized rhythm. My cock was throbbing, and I wanted to fuck something, and soon. I lifted the cherry towards Bella and watched as her mouth started to open, just slightly, her lips plump and pink and wet. I brought the cherry to her lips, offering her a taste, watching as her tongue slipped out and ran across the fruit. I pulled it away then, teasing her, and waited.

"You want this?" I whispered, twirling the cherry on the stick.

She nodded her assent.

"I want to hear it, Bella. Hear the words. Tell me you want it," I growled. It was the same thing I told her that night, begging for her permission, needing to hear it, out loud.

"I want it," she said softly.

"Again. Tell me again." I was pushing it, but I needed to hear her say it, to know that it was real, that it all happened. I twirled the cherry, eyebrow cocked, waiting. And then she said it.

"I want it... _please_."

It sounded so fucking sexy, her sweet voice saying _please_, begging me for a taste. Fuck, I didn't even know what we were talking about anymore.

I brought the stick to her mouth again, resting the cherry lightly on her lips. She bit it, gently, pulling it off the stick with her teeth, and God help me, softly sucked it between her lips. She popped the cherry into her mouth, and it was gone. Her eyes never left mine the entire time.

We talked for a little while, sipping on our drinks. Not about anything in particular, just whatever came to mind. She was very easy to talk to, and apparently, very intelligent and well-read. She loved books, and when she told me that she was currently managing a little bookstore on the other side of town, the hot librarian look suddenly clicked into place. All I could think of was her in the stacks, perched on a ladder, reaching up to shelve books. She was wearing that same skirt and blouse, and the skirt was riding up her bare thighs. Jesus.

When she got to the ice at the bottom of her second non-alcoholic drink, I thought it was a good time to try to get her out of here. Everyone had pretty much left her alone after I moved in, since I had pissed on her leg and marked her as mine.

"Let me drive you home. In your truck." My voice was low and thick, and I wanted her so fucking bad I could taste it. Fuck that, I wanted to taste _her_. "You can't drive after all those drinks." I grinned at her, wanting to tease her a little, knowing that if she thought I was being controlling, which I assumed was the problem with her asshole of a father, that she would shut me down. She gave me a little shy smile, and I assumed I was on the right track, so I stood up and reached for her hand. She put her tiny, warm hand in mine, and I rubbed my thumb across her knuckles, softly, then nodded to the door, pulling her behind me.

"C'mon. Let's go."

She turned over the keys to me easily, no argument, which was somewhat surprising. I had already used up all of my good guy lines for the night. All that was left was the guy who had just gotten out of jail, for the _second _time, and had only gotten fucked once. I was hoping to fix that in the very near future.

We drove in silence for about twenty minutes, the tension and heat in the car building the closer we got to her house. When we finally pulled in the driveway, I was about ready to explode.

It was a tiny little wooden house, with a front porch just large enough for two lawn chairs. I could suddenly picture her curled up there, reading a book, drinking an iced tea or something. Jesus, what the fuck was happening to me?

I walked up the steps behind her as she unlocked the door. I stood nervously in the doorway, wondering if I should go in or not. I really didn't want to fuck this up.

She turned and looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed.

"You coming in?" she asked, so fucking sweet and innocent, but she was smoking hot in that tight skirt and heels.

I lingered at the door, looking down at my shoes, my beat up black workboots that Sam had so graciously given me when he gave me the job.

"Maybe I shouldn't, Bella," I said hesitantly, looking back up at her, meeting her intense gaze. "You were drinking tonight. I don't want to..."

She walked up to me and placed her hand on my arm, connecting us again.

"Don't want to what?" she whispered. She was standing so closely to me that I could smell her hair again, feel the heat rolling off of her body. I was fucking rock hard again in an instant. How could I tell her this, standing at the door? Tell her that I didn't want to regret fucking her because she was drunk? That I wanted us both to be in complete control of our decisions. I'd been there. I wasn't doing it again. That shit was fucked up.

"I don't want to... " I sighed, and paused, hoping I didn't sound like a fucking pussy. "... to take advantage of you. I won't do that shit."

She smiled and blushed again, hopefully imagining what I _wanted _to do to her, but couldn't. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her house, shutting the door behind me.

"Just come in. Sit. Talk." She bit on her lip again and took a deep breath. She looked up at me and looked away. "I don't want you to leave yet." She spoke so softly I could hardly hear her, but I heard enough.

So I sat down on the far end of the couch, and she smiled and quickly turned away from me.

"Want something to drink? Water? Coke? Um, a beer? I think I have a few left, but I'm not sure what kind you like, if they're any good, or - "

I stopped her there.

"Water's fine." I said softly, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

She returned quickly with two bottles of water and handed one to me. She opened hers and swallowed down almost half of it, and I couldn't stop looking at her lips wrapped around the edge of the bottle, her throat as she swallowed. Everything about this woman made me fucking hard.

"Um, I'll be right back, okay?" she said, over her shoulder to me as she walked down the hall and out of my sight.

I took a minute to look around her comfortable little living room, books covering the shelves, happy photographs on the walls, various odd items here and there. The hardwood floors were a warm oak color and covered with a thick, but old-looking, rug. There was a quilt hanging off the back of the couch. It looked lived-in. It looked happy. I felt strangely at home here.

She walked back into the room and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, her legs curled up under her. And she had changed into flannel pajamas... covered with pink pigs and fluffy pink slippers on her feet. I didn't know whether to laugh or hump her. There was something sexy about what she was wearing, about those little pigs. Damn. Maybe it was just her.

"Nice," I said with a smirk. "Hot."

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "They _are _kinda hot sometimes, but I _love _flannel. I'm always cold and these just -"

"Bella," I interrupted her with a smirk. "Not that kind of hot."

She just looked at me, a little confused, trying to figure out what I was talking about. I dragged my hand through my hair, an old nervous habit.

"They're fucking _sexy _Bella. Sexy and hot. Like," I paused, wondering if I should continue or get the fuck out of there. "Like so fucking hot that I want to rip them off of you and watch the buttons scatter."

She was staring at me as the red creeped up her neck, and she wrapped her arms around her body.

"Oh." She exhaled a big breath and looked down at her lap. "_Oh_."

That last _oh _had a moan-like quality to it, and I took that to be a good sign. So I scooted closer, sitting in the middle of the couch, right next to her. I looked in her beautiful brown eyes as I let my hand drift down to her thigh, drawing outlines of the flannel pigs lightly on her leg.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her and fuck her and lick her and make her scream. But not tonight. Not when she's had three shots of 151. But, I could still kiss her, right?

So I leaned over, keeping my eyes on hers, my other hand cupping her cheek, and I pressed my lips to hers, softly, gently. I pulled back and looked at her face, looking for some sign that I should stop, leave right then, get out before I got myself in trouble. But then she put her hand on the back of my neck, her fingers sliding into my hair, and she pulled me back towards her. Fuck it, I wanted her.

I kissed her hard, passionately, my tongue plunging into her mouth, warm and wet and sweet. I buried my hand in her hair, keeping her face pressed against my own. I slid the hand that was on her thigh up the side of her body, stroking her arm, running tiny circle patterns all over the soft, warm fabric, aching to feel her skin. When I reached the side of her breast, she gasped a little in my mouth, which was the hottest fucking sound, and I jerked forward, pushing her body down on the couch, covering her, and grabbing and squeezing her tit. She moaned louder, and the more I squeezed, the louder she moaned. I found her hard little nipple in the weight of all that fabric, rolling it in my fingers, pinching and squeezing, and I pushed her legs open with my own so that I could lay right between them. I rubbed my hard cock between her legs, and pulled her head back, kissing her jaw, her ear, her neck.

I started to reach between her legs, needing to feel her heat, and I suddenly realized that I needed to stop. That I had gone too far, gotten carried away, and I refused to let that happen to me again. It killed me, but I pushed myself up off of her, panting, my cock hard and throbbing, aching for relief.

"We have to stop, Bella," I moaned. She looked at me curiously, her lips red and swollen, her hair wild and disheveled.

"No, Edward, why? It's not like we haven't..." she whispered and tried to pull me back to her, but I resisted.

"I know, but you had a lot to drink tonight, and... well, I just can't. Not like this."

After a moment or two, she seemed to accept what I was saying, and she sighed and sat up next to me, our thighs touching on the couch. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. It was a sweet gesture.

"Tell me, Edward," she urged. "Tell me why this bothers you so much." Her hand lingered on my cheek, brushing against my jaw, across my lip. That was fucking dangerous. I wanted to suck her fingers into my mouth, run my tongue between them, make her shudder and moan. Fuck. Instead, I pushed her hand away, gently.

"It's an ugly story, Bella," I said with a grimace. "I've had an ugly fucking life, and I don't want to drag you down into that."

"Please, Edward," she begged with that tiny, sweet voice. "Tell me. I _want _to know. I want to know _you_. _All _of you."

I sighed again, and ran my fingers through my hair. Why was this so fucking hard? Why did I fucking care what she thought?

"When I was in high school, senior year, I went to a party and hooked up with this girl," I said with a sigh, my eyes flickering from my lap to her face, back and forth. "I knew her, kind of, but we didn't have the same friends or anything. She was at the party, I figured she was my age. I was nineteen." She sat and listened quietly. She didn't make any faces or noises to discourage me, so I kept going. "I was drunk off my ass, and so was she. I took her upstairs and I fu- … I … we had sex. And that was it. Until the next day, when the fucking cops showed up at my door and arrested me ... for rape. Handcuffed me, dragged me out of my house, and threw me in the back of the cop car. Fucking _rape_." I took a deep breath and met her eyes. "Jesus, Bella, I would _never _fucking do that to a woman."

She made a soothing noise and stroked my face, encouraging me to continue. I pulled at my hair again in frustration. The worst of it was out there, on the table I suppose, and she hadn't run yet. "Her dad was some kind of hot shot judge or something, and he said... fuck, he said that I got her drunk and took advantage of her, that his little girl would never do something like that on her own. There was no evidence, and the girl was seventeen, legal age, so he couldn't even get me on statutory rape. The charges were eventually dropped for lack of evidence or some shit, but I was just glad it went away. You get convicted of a sex crime, and you're labeled the rest of your life. And sex offenders in prison? Fuck, man, forget it. That's the worst." I rubbed her leg again, reassured by the heat of her skin coming through the thick flannel.

"So that's it. That's the big story. That's why I need to hear you say yes. That's why I can't touch you anymore tonight, even though I _really _fucking want to. Because I'm not that guy."

"Edward, I would never -" she started, aghast.

"I _know_, Bella," I said, more angrily than I meant to. "I know you wouldn't. But it's me. It's just something I have to do."

We sat in silence for a while, each of us absorbing what had just been said. I had to give it to her, she had just heard that I was accused of rape - wrongly, I might add - but she didn't seem flustered at all. She seemed to completely understand the situation. It was like she trusted me or something. God only knows why. She barely knew me.

We talked for a while, again, about nothing. Books, work, the weather, whatever shit popped into our heads. My dick stayed hard the entire time, but I was determined not to fuck it up, so I kept my distance, my zipper up, and my hands to myself.

"Uh, okay," I said with a quick glance at her beautiful face. "I guess I should go now." I stood up and adjusted my pants, anxiously needing to touch myself, to get some relief, but that would have to wait until later. She stood up next to me and rubbed her hands slowly up and down her thighs. Fuck, that was hot too. Every fucking thing she did was hot.

"How are you going to get home? Want me to drive you?" she asked, walking slowly towards the door.

"No, you can't drive, Bella, remember?" Sweet, innocent girl. "I'll get a ride, don't worry about me." I grinned and stroked my finger across the warm skin of her cheek. She immediately turned pink again.

We stood at the door for a minute, an uncomfortable silence growing between us, until I couldn't take it anymore.

"This is fucking ridiculous," I mumbled, and I grabbed her waist and pulled her to me. I looked down at her and slowly pressed my mouth to hers, waiting for her lips to open to me, and I slid my tongue inside again. I fucking couldn't get enough of the way she tasted. When I realized that my hand was on her tit again, I knew it was time to leave, and I pulled away, both of us gasping.

I turned away from her and reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open so that I could make a quick exit.

"Wait!" Bella squealed suddenly and ran into the kitchen. She was back out immediately, and she shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand. "That's my phone number," she said breathlessly. "Call me sometime... when we're both sober." She smiled and looked down at the ground shyly, her cheeks flaming pink, then she raised her eyes and looked at me through her lashes again, and I almost caved. Almost.

But I knew it was time to leave. So I did.

"Later, Bella," I said, smiling back at her, and I walked out the door.

* * *

><p>I hitched back to the garage and slipped into my tiny room in the back of the empty building. Sam had put me up there until I got back on my feet. It wasn't much, but I had a cot, a TV, and a bathroom, and I had a hot plate to heat up shit to eat and a small refrigerator to keep beer.<p>

I laid on the thin cot and pulled out the piece of paper she had given me. I had looked at it a thousand times on the ride home, wondering what I would ever have to say to this girl. Why she wanted me, fucking mess that I was.

I pulled out my phone, the only luxury I allowed myself, and I punched in her number, storing it in my contacts. I sent her a quick text, so that she would have my number too. I wanted her to fucking think about me before she went to sleep. I wanted her to be as obsessed as I was.

_**Sweet dreams, beautiful Bella.**_

I put the phone down on the milk crate that served as my bedside table and reached to flip off the single bulb light. As I did, I heard my phone chirp. Incoming message. No fucking way. But it had to be her. I didn't know anyone else.

_**Way ahead of you Edward. :) Goodnight. -B**_

What the fuck did _that _mean? Was she having good dreams? Of me? Was she thinking of me? Why else would she tell me she was having good dreams, and why the fuck did she add a fucking smiley face?

I immediately launched into a filthy fantasy with Bella in her bed, completely naked, her hands buried between her spread legs, getting herself off while she fantasized about me, and I came way too fast and way too hard.

* * *

><p>The next night, I sat in my usual spot at Jake's, partly because I had nothing better to do, but also because I was hoping that she might stop by again. I was fucking pathetic.<p>

I knew from our conversations that the bookstore closed at six, and it was only a ten-minute drive to the bar, so at seven o'clock, I figured I had missed my chance, that she wasn't coming.

At seven thirty, I paid my tab and started getting ready to leave, when my phone chirped with an incoming message.

_**R u at the bar? Workd late. Ugh. -B**_

I love how she felt the need to sign her messages to me, as if I wouldn't know who she was. But who gave a fuck, she had texted me, and I was walking on fucking air. I wrote her a quick reply, just in case she was driving by. I didn't want to miss her.

_**Yep. U coming?**_

Coming? Jesus, was that a fucking loaded question. I hoped she wasn't coming yet, because I wanted to fucking see it, and hear it, and if I was a lucky motherfucker, I wanted to fucking _taste _it.

It seemed to take forever for her to respond, and when she finally did, I jumped, almost dropping the phone. I wanted her so fucking much. I had to be careful that I didn't push too hard, too soon.

_**U drunk?**_

I laughed at her reply and sent her one back, quickly.

_**No. Not enuf $ for Jakes secret stash. U?**_

She replied immediately.

_**I was at work! No, not drunk. Driving!**_

Driving? Maybe on her way here?

_**So we r both not drunk, right?**_

I was trying to get a not-so-subtle message across, and I hoped she was getting it.

_**right ;)**_

Okay. What the fuck did that wink mean? Did she know what I was trying to do and was telling me she was on to me? Or was she just letting me know that she understood what I was trying to say... that if we were both sober, we could get together? Should I just fucking come out and say it? I didn't want to scare her. Fuck, this shit was hard. And so was my fucking dick. Again. Just from fucking text messages.

I decided to keep it vague, let her lead.

_**So...**_

I waited, nervously tapping my fingers on the scarred wooden bar rail.

_**Be there in 10.**_

Oh fuck, yeah. She was on her way here. It was on. It was fucking _on_. I kept it simple again. Vague. Non-committal.

_**I'll be here.**_

So I sat there, willing myself not to look at the clock, but that motherfucker was ticking away slowly, and I started to get nervous.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

Shit, did she change her mind?

Finally, twenty-five minutes after her last text, the door opened slowly, and I just _knew _it was her. She walked in and looked around, but not seeing me hidden in the dark corner, she walked up to the bar and perched on a stool.

I wasted no time and snuck up behind her, slipping my hands around her waist, my mouth at her ear.

"Hey, beautiful," I whispered.

She jumped, almost as if she didn't expect me, and she turned in her seat until we were face to face. She smiled and sighed.

"Hey," she whispered back.

I took a minute to look her up and down. She was in a completely different outfit today... a tight blue t-shirt and a colorful, long, flowing skirt with flat sandals on her feet. As fucking hot as that outfit was the day before, this one seemed to fit her a little more, seemed more _her_.

"What are you drinking?" she asked, gesturing to my empty glass on the bar.

"Water," I replied quickly. I wanted her to know that I was completely fucking sober and that I intended to stay that way.

She smiled and blushed and looked down at her hands, in her lap.

"Good," she said softly. She was glad I was straight, and maybe she wanted to be straight tonight too.

We talked for a bit, complete nonsense, but my hands never left her. I had one hand on her waist or her hip, keeping a connection between us, telling all the other motherfuckers in that bar that she was mine, and my other hand was on her arm, or her hand, or her thigh, or her face. Just touching her. Letting her know, silently, how much I fucking wanted her.

At some point, I stepped a little closer, pushing her legs open and standing between them, right up against her. The long skirt kept her completely covered, but I needed to be as close to her as possible. I looked into her eyes and slowly leaned down until my lips were touching hers. She immediately opened her mouth to me, and I felt her tongue slip between my lips before I even had a chance to make a move. Fuck, that went straight to my cock, and I moaned in her mouth, meeting her tongue with mine and rubbing my body against hers.

We kissed like that for a while, slowly, open-mouthed, grinding on each other, until Jake had to make a fucking comment.

"Get a fucking room, Cullen," he barked at me, looking around the bar to see who would laugh at his tired joke.

I looked up at him, barely moving my mouth off of Bella's, and replied.

"Mind your own fucking business, Black."

But he was right. I couldn't do this in a fucking bar in front of these fucking losers. I mean, I could, and I had, but not with Bella. I was too protective of her already. I needed to get her out of here, somewhere private, so we could be alone. So I could fucking touch her and make her come, make her scream my name.

I moved my mouth to her ear, kissing and licking along the way, and she moaned softly, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Let's get out of here," I whispered in her ear, then pulled back to see her reaction.

She nodded immediately and grabbed her purse from the bar. I held her hands as she hopped off the stool, and then pulled her behind me towards the door. Once we were outside, I found her truck immediately. It was easy to spot. I opened the driver's door for her, and once she was seated, I leaned in the open door, shoving my tongue down her throat and letting my hands wander a little. I pulled away and prayed that she would invite me back to her house.

"My place?" she asked, her voice rough and low.

"Yeah," I replied with a small smile, walking quickly around the truck until I was sitting in the passenger seat next to her. "Let's go."

She started up the truck, and it purred like a kitten. I did good fucking work.

We rode in complete silence, both knowing exactly what would happen as soon as we got to her house.

I couldn't stand it any longer, and I slid over next to her on the wide bench seat. I put my arm around the back of the seat and leaned down, bringing my mouth to her neck. She immediately groaned, and I fucking loved the sounds that she made. I was licking and sucking on the tender skin of her neck as she drove, whispering in her ear, telling her how good she tasted, how much I wanted her, how much I wanted to fuck her again. My hand was on her knee, covered by her long skirt, and I slid upwards until I was right between her legs. I stroked softly over the fabric of her skirt and her panties, rubbing my entire hand in small, firm circles as she squirmed beneath me.

"Edward, oh God, please..." she groaned. "I can't... oh fuck... I'm trying to..."

"Are you wet, Bella?" I groaned in her neck. "Is that pussy wet for me again, hmm?"

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she replied.

"You gonna let me taste that pussy, Bella?" I asked, kissing her neck with tongue and lips and teeth. "I'm gonna spread you wide, baby, and lick you till you scream," I teased in her ear. "You gonna scream for me? Scream my name when you come?" I started to pull her skirt up, bunching it up in my fist, until my hand was touching bare skin. Then, I wasted no time, and I slid my hand up her thigh until it was between her legs. I quickly slipped my hand inside her panties and buried my fingers in warm and wet. She clamped her thighs around my hand and swerved on the empty road before straightening the truck out.

"Oh shit," she muttered. "Oh God, oh..."

"Baby," I moaned in her ear, my tongue slipping inside and out, then biting her lobe. "You're so fucking wet. You feel so fucking good, Bella." My fingers were moving around gently, up and down between her legs, but they were slick and covered in her wetness. I couldn't resist any longer, and I pulled my hand out and brought it to my mouth. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, watching what I was doing, and groaned loudly.

"Oh fuck, Bella. Tell me we're almost there, baby," I begged desperately. "Tell me, because you taste so fucking good. If we're not there in two minutes, I'm gonna bury my face between those sweet thighs right here in your truck."

Less than sixty seconds later, she pulled into her driveway, and I was out of her truck and on the front porch before she could even turn off the engine. I stood behind her as she put the key in the lock, my hands on her waist, moving up her body, my mouth hungry on her neck. When the door opened, I pushed her inside, turning her so that she was walking backwards, and I kicked the door closed with my foot.

I pushed her back on the couch. She landed in a sitting position, and I was down on my knees in front of her in seconds. I kissed her hard, my hands on her thighs, pushing up her skirt.

"I can't wait another fucking second," I said. "Tell me yes. Tell me you want me. Tell me right fucking now." I had to hear it. Years later, and I still had to hear it.

"Yes, Edward," she whispered. "Yes, I want you."

Fuck.

I pushed her skirt up to her waist and hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down until they were completely off and on the floor next to me. Then, I grabbed her ankles, placing them on the couch on either side of her, and pushed her thighs open, wide. There she was, spread before me, pink and wet and all mine.

I wasted no time, and I buried my mouth between her legs.

She screamed and buried her fingers in my hair, pulling so tightly that it fucking hurt. But I liked it when it hurt.

Jesus, she tasted incredible. And she was so fucking wet, and it was all for me. I wanted to go slow, to tease her, take my time and bring her to the edge and back several times, but I just couldn't. I had absolutely no self-control, and I sucked on her clit, hard, rubbing it with my tongue as I slipped a finger inside her. I wanted to tell her to come for me, but I couldn't stop long enough to speak, and I increased my pace until I heard her breathing change. She was close, and I wanted it. I wanted her to come all over my face.

I slid my tongue inside her, moving against my fingers, and rubbed her clit with my thumb, pressing down hard.

"Oh, _fuck_!" she screamed as she clenched tightly around my fingers, pulling my hair until I was moaning and screaming along with her. "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming," she panted, her head whipping back and forth as her hips pumped into my face. "Oh God, _Edward_."

Yeah, there it was. My name. She fucking _said _it.

When she finally calmed, I slipped my finger out from inside her and sucked it into my mouth, unable to get enough of her sweet taste. I wiped my face on my forearm, then I kissed her hard and quick. I needed to fuck her, but I would wait until she was a little more coherent. Not long, though.

"Bella, baby," I whispered desperately in her ear. "Please... _please_, I need you so badly." My cock was throbbing painfully in my pants and if I didn't get some relief soon, I was going to explode.

I pulled back and looked in her eyes, waiting for her to give me some signal that she was okay, and she blinked a couple of times and took a deep breath, and then she gave me a little smile.

I turned her on the couch and pushed gently on her chest until she was flat on her back. Kneeling between her legs, I fumbled with my zipper until I had freed my aching cock. I sat back on my heels, slowly stroking myself while I looked down at her, splayed out in front of me, thighs spread, wet and ready for me. She was still completely clothed, with the exception of her panties, but I had never been more turned on in my life. Her cheeks still held the blush of the orgasm I had just given her, and as anxious as I was for my own release, I wanted to make her come again just to hear the sounds that she made, maybe hear my name again.

Jesus, she was beautiful.

I leaned over her, one hand on the couch and the other on my cock, and I kissed her, moving slowly from her mouth to her jaw to her neck, and then back again. I rubbed my dick between her legs until it was slick and shiny and I thought I might explode. I pushed my way in, and she took a deep, gasping breath, holding it until my body was flush with hers, and I started to move.

"Oh God, Edward," she groaned my name again, long and low. She lifted her hips up off the couch, meeting my slow, deep thrusts, and I couldn't imagine that anything could ever feel better than this.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," I said into her neck. "So warm. So wet. So fucking tight. _Jesus_."

I wanted to take my time, go slowly and make it last, but there was no fucking way. I had just put my dick inside her, and I was about to come already. I was barely moving, trying to hold off, but it was no use. She lifted her hips one last time, squeezing my cock like a vise, and I fucking exploded.

"Oh, hell... I'm gonna... _fuck_!" I whispered as I came, conditioned from hundreds of silent self-induced orgasms in prison. I collapsed on top of her, sweaty and gasping for air, and I realized, once I had finally regained consciousness, that she was stroking my back, murmuring sweet sounds in my ear. I pulled back, just enough so that I could see her eyes. I wanted to apologize for coming so fast, like a fucking pussy.

"Bella, I'm..."

She pressed her fingers across my mouth, silencing me, and her touch felt so good that I forgot what I was saying and slid my tongue out, tasting her skin. Her eyes grew large, watching me, and as I sucked her fingers into my mouth, I felt my dick come back to life inside her.

Round two. Or three.

I sat back on my heels again and grabbed her hips firmly in my hands, pulling her up so that I could fuck her even deeper, and she gasped and arched her back. Jesus, what a sight. I ran my hands under her shirt, pushing it up so that I could feel her tits, skin on skin. Her nipples were hard, and I squeezed them sharply between my fingers, groaning as she flinched and tightened her pussy around me.

"Oh fuck, yeah, Bella," I growled, deep in my throat, and I kept one hand on her breast, the other sliding down between her legs. When my finger touched her swollen clit, she screamed and jerked again, lifting up in the air and pounding her hips into mine. "I want to make you come again, baby." I panted. "I want to feel you come while I'm fucking you."

Her eyes rolled back, and she moaned at my dirty words, her breathing growing deeper and faster as I stroked between her legs. I grabbed her hip tightly again, pulling her towards me with each thrust, my fingers rubbing circles around her clit. She was close, and I fucking wanted it.

"Come on baby," I begged, pounding my hips against hers. "Come on... come for me, goddamn it." She was fucking whimpering, like she was holding on, refusing to give in. Fuck that, I thought, she was going to come, and she was going to come right fucking now. I pressed in deep and circled my hips, then pressed hard on her clit, holding it down as I felt her start to tighten around me. She was eerily silent for several seconds, then her entire upper body lifted off of the couch, and she screamed. I could feel her, wave after wave after wave, squeezing my dick until I couldn't take it anymore, and I came again, roaring loudly this time in her quiet little house.

I was exhausted, fucking drained, and once I was able to breathe again, I collapsed next to her on the couch and pulled her into my arms. I pressed my lips to her hair, trailing my fingertips lightly up and down her arm, still just needing to touch.

"Jesus, Bella," I whispered in the dark. I wanted to say something else, something prophetic and romantic and utterly cool, but I was fucking speechless. I wanted to say thank you, but there was no way to do that without sounding desperate and pathetic.

Then, she turned in my arms so that she was facing me, and she softly stroked the scruff of my jaw, pressing her lips tenderly to mine.

"Thank you, Edward," she whispered.

I stared at her for several seconds, not believing she just said that to me, the exact same thing I wanted to say to her but couldn't, and I started laughing. Like really fucking loudly.

Her eyebrows furrowed immediately, and she started to pout, obviously pissed off at me for reacting to her heartfelt gratitude like a dick.

"No, Bella, shit," I chuckled. "I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to laugh, it's just..."

Her expression didn't change. She was still pissed and waiting for an explanation.

"What, Edward?" She huffed. "What's so fucking funny?"

Hearing Bella curse just made me want to laugh more, but I was already in enough shit as it was. I reached up to stroke her face, and she flinched away from me. I kept my hand in the air, slowly moving towards her, until finally, she let me touch her again. I rubbed my thumb on the soft skin of her cheek.

"Bella... I was thinking the exact same thing. I wanted to thank you for fucking me, but I couldn't figure out how to do it without sounding like a dick. That was, Jesus, that was fucking amazing, baby." I slid my fingers to the back of her neck and pulled her to me, kissing her slowly, sweetly.

She moaned softly, then pulled back to look at me, the corners of her mouth turning up in a cocky smirk.

"Okay... how about _this_? 'Thank you for fucking me. That was fucking amazing, baby. Thank you, Bella.'"

I chuckled at her quick wit, at how she turned my own filthy words back on me, making them sound so much fucking sweeter coming out of her mouth, and I pressed my lips to her hair. This girl was inside me, and I was determined to keep her.

She laid her head back on my chest, her fingers in my hair, and looked up at me, her big brown eyes full of some unnamed emotion.

"I meant it, Edward," she whispered shyly. "That was amazing. Thank you."

I sighed softly and smiled back at her this time, an honest, genuine smile. I wanted her to know that, not only did I appreciate her words, but that I felt exactly the same way.

"Anytime, sweet girl. Anytime."

* * *

><p><strong>That's it for these two, at least for now. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Next up, another chapter of "Beautiful" - the business trip. ;)<strong>

**"The Mechanic" - the original chapter 1 - was chosen as the "Single Serving of the Week" on The Lemonade Stand's Lemon Drops, back in May. Hope my adding a second chapter doesn't ruin my one-shot status! Go to "tehlemonadestand" to check it out. (Thanks Edmazing!)**

**At the end of July, I'll be posting my F4NKH story, "Meadowood," which is a kinda Jane-Austen-meets-Twilight story, so be on the lookout for that. :)**

**Thanks, as always, to my best friend and beta, LibbyLou862, for correcting all my mistakes, my tense errors, and especially for having that keen visual sense to picture all of the action and make sure it flows!**

**(PS - I was half inspired while writing this chapter after watching/listening to the leaked sex scene from Cosmopolis starring our boy. And Oh. My. God. The sounds... the sounds! Go listen, if you haven't already.)**


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